


Now what?

by Valpur



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9379604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valpur/pseuds/Valpur
Summary: Three years of waiting are more than enough for Yuri.“I want to know if you have ever b-been with anyone. Like… you know what I mean, right?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> This fanfic is a bunch of first times - for me too!  
> It's myfirst time writing in English instead of translating (and it's so easier I can't believe it took me so long to understand it).  
> My first time in YoI fandom.  
> My first time writing a first time, actually!
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this little experiment, for I had tons of fun writing it!  
> Oh, please check out the fanart at the bottom of the page, that's where the inspiration came from.

Otabek Altin is a mess. It’s not the first time Yuri spends the night in his hotel room – it’s been almost three years, actually, since that first time he simply fell asleep in Otabek’s bed after a competition in Seoul.

Many things have changed – Yuri, mostly, with his collection of gold medals and a tall body he still has to get acquainted with – but not Otabek’s chaos. 

“Where the fuck am I supposed to sit?” He gestures to the bed and the pile of clothes covering it from pillow to feet, and toes a crumpled black t-shirt on the floor.

Otabek just shrugs and _almost_ smiles. It is easy to miss it – a glint of mischief in the depths of his black eyes, a small twitch of an eyebrow – but it's there and Yuri can't help but smile back.

“There’s an armchair”, and Beka’s voice is smooth as silk.

“Sure. I suppose suggesting you use your wardrobe instead of the bed would be pointless...”

As he rolls his eyes Yuri notices it. Beyond the huge windows Paris glows, the darkness glistening with countless lights under the black sky.

He moves before he can think of doing it and suddenly the cold glass surface is under his fingers and he’s staring at the city, eyes wide.

The City of Lights indeed, even more magical now than during their tour in the afternoon.

Yuri takes in the golden lean silhouette of the Tour Eiffel and little more, now, because a large hand flutters on his own, as light as a butterfly.

 _Otabek_.

“It’s pretty nice, isn't it?” He says, and Yuri swallows hard before looking at him.

Straigh nose, long dark lashes, the white t-shirt stretching on broad shoulders and the habit of touching him: Otabek has been a constant tease since they first met. 

At the time Yuri was fifteen, all anger and hormones, and there were little he could do to ease the tension that bloody asshole sent down his body – just _one_ thing, actually, alone in the dark wishing that his hand belonged to someone else. He’s eighteen now and very little has changed – again, in Otabek, at least.

Yuri snorts and wrinkles his nose, winking down at Otabek. He's the tall one, now, and yet he still feels kind of frail at his side; he curls his fingers and let Otabek run his thumb on his pale knuckles.

“Yeah, not bad”. He suspects his voice doesn't sound as sassy as he means. 

“Wanna take a shower? It's been a long day and we’ve walked some distance. You must be tired”.

Fuck, it's hard to play it cool when Otabek is so near, all warmth and glossy black hair brushed back and those arms bulging from the sleeves of his t-shirt. It’s hard to ignore all those years of longing and of nothing more than a few kisses and hands holding. 

Yuri swears in his mind.

Now _he's_ just hard. Damn him.

“Are you sure you don't wanna go first? You know it takes me a while”.

Now Otabek smiles for real, lips curling and eyes narrowing in shining black slits. Yuri lets out a quivering breath.

“I can wait, don't worry”. He closes his hand on Yuri’s for a moment and steps back, leaving him aching for his presence. 

Yuri turns and wants to stop him, to ask something silly or make some kind of witty retort to make him stay, but he can't. He just pushes a blonde strand from his eyes and walk to the bathroom. 

When the door closes behind him he takes a deep breath, taking off his sweatshirt with a muffled curse.

 _I can wait_ , he said. Three years of waiting, of not even speaking of what was between them because _blah blah you're so young blah blah competitions_ and so on. And for three years Yuri – fuck, his pants are tighter than he thought and he kicks them off together with his underwear – has been left wondering _when_.

The door creaks open and for a split second Yuri freezes. Is Beka…

No, of course he’s not, it’s just the damn door not closing properly. Otabek is not a creep or anything and would never storm into the bathroom to ravish him.

 _Unfortunately_.

He removes his hair tie and jumps into the shower. The hot water rains on his head and soon his hair clings to his face. Otabek’s shampoo smells like him but not really, and as Yuri pours some his head feels light. When he curles in Otabek’s arms that’s what he smells, but there’s something else, something sweeter that goes straight to his head – Beka’s skin.

Three years with that burning desire are more than enough, he thinks running his hands down his lithe body.

Down.

And down again.

He’s been hard for the last minutes, and it’s all Otabek’s fault. Just being by his side, feeling his fingers wrap against his hand is enough to –

His fingertips brush his erection and a flash of fire runs down his skin.

 _Fuck_.

He lazily curls his fingers around his smooth length and lets out a shaky moan, drowned by the sound of water splashing around him. He could do it – it wouldn't be the first time either. So many nights in a cold bed too big for him, his only pleasure his hand and Beka’s face invading his thoughts...

He stops abruptly, cursing under his breath. No, not like this, not with Otabek just one door away. He could hear him or walk in and –

Yuri curses again as his cock twitches in his hand. He is only making things worse, the inappropriate scenarios turning him on even more.

“Fuck”, he groans letting his hand drop and clench in a fist. They've had more then their share of waiting and pining, he's not a kid anymore and _he wants him_.

And for fuck’s sake, he’ll make a move of some kind, or he'll go insane.

A moment of doubt crosses his mind – _what if he doesn't want me?_ – but it quickly fades away. Yuri is not insecure and he can read the signs, or so he hopes. And most of all he's not afraid of taking risks.

He hits the faucet and lets water trickle down his naked body, standing still and breathing heavy. As he steps out of the shower, leaving a pool on the slippery floor, his own eyes stare at him from the mirror; he’s flushed – sure he can blame the hot water for that – and only a thin ring of blue is visible around the black hollows of his dilated pupils. 

He can't go on like this. A fierce grimace twists his delicate lips as he grabs a towel and quickly rubs it all over his body. 

Otabek must know it's going to happen sooner or later. All that touching and kissing and sleeping together is way too chaste for his own liking but it _has_ to mean something.

Hair still damp, his clothes back in place after a bit of struggle to button his jeans, Yuri leaves the bathroom. He stands on the door for a moment looking at the room with a hint of disappointment; the bed’s still inaccessible and Otabek is sitting comfortably on the armchair, a book in his hands and Paris shining below him. He has turned the armchair so it's facing the window and Yuri snorts.

“I wanted to sit there”, he pouts. “I'm not going to curl on the floor at your feet, I'm not a dog!”

His voice sounds more nagging than he intended but Beka doesn't seem to care. The corners of his mouth rise as he shifts back on the chair.

“Of course you're not, but there's room for two, here”.

Yuri smiles – it’s impossible not to, when Otabek is looking at him like that – and joins him.

True enough, the armchair is big enough for the two of them but barely; Yuri tries for a while to fold his long legs under his body but quickly gives up, throwing each of them over Otabek’s thighs and leaning back on him.

He can’t stifle a sigh as he practically melts against Otabek’s chest, with his chin resting on his shoulder as he gets back to reading as if nothing is happening. And _nothing is happening_ , really, because that’s how they do: they’re close, always have been, and it’s the most natural thing in the world looking for each other’s touch.

But now something’s shifting. Yuri is too aware of Otabek’s cheek – slightly rough with stubble – brushing his neck, of the heat rising from his groin, the outline of his muscular frame clearly perceivable behind him. All at once he has no idea of what to do with his hands, so he grabs his phone and browses some social media; they took lots of pictures during their day off and he has to upload some of the best ones on his Instagram.

They sit quietly for a long time, the silence only broken by the rythmic whisper of paper as Otabek turns page after page. Yuri hasn’t even asked him what he’s reading, and it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just that he’s losing control over his mental functions. As time goes by the screen of his phone blurs in front of his eyes, blue and white merging into a cloud of light as his concentration slips away. He fidgets a bit to get more comfortable and something breaks in Otabek’s reading routine – he stops turning pages; peeking up at their reflection in the window Yuri sees that he hasn’t moved, eyes lowered on his book, one hand casually thrown on the armrest.

He _feels_ it more than seeing it– Otabek swallows hard, his throat quivering against his shoulder – and his heart skips a beat.

Focusing on his phone is getting more complicated now; he moves again a bit between Otabek’s legs and it happens. A throb, the definite pressure of Otabek’s cock against his lower back. He leans closer and feels it getting harder, hot even under the layers of their clothings.

The caress on his neck startles him and Yuri squirms, causing Otabek to breath loudly just once. It could be a coincedence but something inside him tells him it’s not.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Beka’s voice doesn’t tremble but his words ripple on Yuri’s sking, sending a shiver down his spine and setting his cheeks on fire.

“No, I’m not”.

“You’re restless. Is everything ok?” His fingers are gentle as the ran up his jawline and through his hair, curling a lock on his forefinger.

Yuri is about to answer but stops. Looking up again to the windows they make eye contact – and he can’t tell what’s come to life in his chest, what new kind of courage he’s tapping into, but he just move back again. Otabek’s eye flutter close for a second: that’s all the confirmation he needs. He turns in his arms to face him and their faces are so close he can feel his breath on his lips.

“I’m fine, and you?” he whispers.

_Please…_

“Yuri, I…”

Otabek doesn’t even finish the sentence. He leans forward and his forehead touches Yuri’s. It’s almost a kiss, their lips touching-but-not-really, something so familiar for them but now so different and powerful it’s almost scary. The book closes with a soft thud and falls on the floor, and both Otabek’s hands are free to cup Yuri’s jaw.

And Yuri is painfully aware of everything – the pulsation between his thighs, the deafening thumping of his heart in his ears, in every part of his body. The very same throbbing he can feel in Beka’s flesh pressed against him.

They’re standing on the edge of something bigger, something new – for Yuri, at least, and the thought finds his way to his lips.

“Beka, did you ever… have you…”

His voice fails him and he tries to look away as embarrassment paints his face even redder, but Otabek’s hands keep him in place. He’s dead serious – and he is _always_ serious, ok, but now there’s something deeper, more adult in his eyes. Something Yuri both craves and fears.

“Just ask”, he murmurs, and Yuri drinks the sweetness in his tone, a hint of hunger he’s not sure it’s really there.

Mouth dry, hair falling loose on his shoulders, he purses his lips and challenges him with his eyes. Actually he’s not that confident he’s managing his cold-defiant-Russian-stare but he tries it anyway.

“I want to know if you have ever b-been with anyone. Like… you know what I mean, right?”

Otabek is breathing faster now, but it’s the only sign of a faltering self control. He pushes Yuri’s hair from his eyes and looks at him.

“Yes”.

“Yes? Like _yes I know what you mean_ or _yes I have_ …”

“Yes I have. Before we met and… yeah, I have”. His lips are on Yuri’s for a kiss as light as a feather and not enough – never enough, and Yuri has barely the time to open his mouth and long for the caress of his tongue before it’s over. “Does it bother you?”

“What? No, of course not, I’m not an idiot! But… I wanted to… I mean, how is it?”

Otabek moves to accomodate Yuri on his lap, facing him, and his arms wrap around his waist.

“Why do you ask?”

“Stop answering my questions with more questions! Ok, it was a stupid thing to ask, nevermind, I…”

“Yura, please, I need to know: why do you ask?”

And his voice is low, the soft rumble of a faraway storm, and it resonates in Yuri’s stomach, choking another angry retort.

“I… I…”

“Don’t lie to me. Please”, he says again, and it’s the fatal blow. Yuri’s skin is too tight for his body, his brain working slower as he runs his fingertips on Otabek’s chest. How fast can his heart beat before it jumps out of his ribcage?

“Because… I know, it sounds stupid but…”

Another kiss, deeper now, and the grip on his waist tightens. Yuri moans against Otabek’s mouth and clutches his shirt, parting his legs further to rock his hips in his lap.

“It’s not stupid”. Otabek breaks away from the kiss and Yuri is almost sure his hands are shaking as he runs them on his back, but there’s not much time to investigate further, because he crushes his lips again with a new, fierce kiss.

“Maybe it is, I don’t know, but… but I want to…”

Otabek bites his lower lip and it’s different from any other time they’ve been in such a situation. He bucks upwards and Yuri catches his breath, slipping his hands under the hem of his shirt, desperate for his skin.

“I want _you_ ”, he manages to blurt out, and the whole world stops. Otabek falls back on the armchair and shakes his head, but before he can speak Yuri kisses him again, hard and fast.

“I’m not a kid anymore”, he whispers raking his nails on Otabek’s chest. 

“I know it all too well”, and there’s a hint of laughter in his voice. “But… I don’t want to hurt you, Yura”.

“Will it hurt?” He nips the base of his neck and enjoys the soft groan in response.

“A-A bit, and I can’t…”

“I don’t care. It won’t hurt forever, right?”

Otabek lifts his chin in his palm and lookes at him, more serious than ever.

“Are you sure?”

“Sure as hell. _Please_ , Beka…”

Enought talking for his tastes. He lifts Otabek’s shirt over his chest, exposing inch after inch of tan skin and thick muscles and letting out a muffled sigh of relief as it slips past his head. It’s not the first time he sees him like this but now it’s _more_. Breathing between their demanding kisses is an optional and Yuri finds himself drowning in Otabek’s heat, in his tongue seeking his own, needy as it has never been.

Under his palms his skins feels so smooth, his heart pounding as desperate as his own as he reaches down to unbuckle his belt. Otabek’s erection is straining in his jeans, his hands grabbing his butt with no trace of the quiet tenderness he’s always known, and this is enough to send his blood temperature to the roof and above. He mutters a couple of curses in strict russian as he struggles with the zip and Beka echoes the gasp he lets out on his lips when he finally wins his fight with his pants. There, under his palm, Beka’s cock feels familiar and strange at the same time, something alive and marvelous he can’t help but stroke tentatively through the thin fabric of his underwear. He’s happy, just happy when a moan of pleasure vibrates between their lips, and does it again, aroused by the simple feeling of the rigid outline against his hand, and Otabek pulls him closer, crushing his hips against him – and now it’s _his_ time to moan, loud and amazed as their cocks are pressed side by side. It’s a new, raw sansation and it leaves him air-starved, needing more and needing it _now_.

Otabek grabs handfuls of fabric and rolls Yuri’s sweatshirt up to his chest, fingertips on his bare skin, a shaking touch circling his waist and returning again to his back. He slips his fingers under the waistband of Yuri’s underwear and his hands dip down to firmly cup his ass.

For Yuri it’s all an undiscovered continent, amazing and almost scary but so fascinating he doesn't care if he's awkward, rocking on Beka to feel him quiver against him – again and again with every buck of his hips.

_I want you. I want you to be the first and I've never felt anything like this before._

He would say it out loud but his tongue has more pressing matters to attend to – a slow trail of sucking kisses down Otabek’s throat, the incredible sensation of his blood running wild under his lips.

When Otabek’s hands leave his skin he almost whimpers at the loss but here they are again, swift gestures unbuttoning his pants and lowering them to his thighs. Yuri half stands up to help him and squirms to kick a leg free; it's enough and he can't stand interrupting their kisses.

The first touch of a hand different from his own – the hand and the owner he’s been secretly dreaming of for years – nearly has him choking on a muffled cry. He backs away panting hoarsely and a glint of worry appears in Otabek’s eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“No. I mean yeah, it’s... do it again, would you?”

Otabek smiles and it's something Yuri had never seen before on his face – wicked, needy, almost desperate for him. Beka’s fingers trace the silky length of his cock and rub his thumb on the heated head, already wet and too sensitive for his own self control.

A few strokes and Yuri’s already biting the hard shoulder beneath him.

“Fuck”, he grunts. So much for his pride – and he couldn't care less. His fingertips find their way under Otabek’s underwear and he just follows his instinct, touching him as he would do to himself. Slow, delicate at first, his fist wrapping around the rigid girth making Otabek’s breath come out at an uneven pace as he speeds up.

“Hey... Wait”, he whispers – how the fuck can his voice be so calm? Yuri stops abruptly and looks at him, but Otabek just shakes his head once.

“I didn't say you should stop, it's just... it's been a while, ok? And...”

His hand is still teasing and Yuri lets out something similar to a sob, clinging to Otabek’s hair and shaking violently.

It’s tempting – to just keep going and sink deeper in the gaping void of pleasure opening at their feet. He almost gives in to the increasing tightening of his muscles, the building blaze of fire in his blood but with a grunt he forces to relax. Otabek dips his head to kiss him, and the sudden brush of his lips and his soft words are almost too much to bear.

“You’re good”, and his tongue traces Yuri’s lower lip, sucking it gently.

It’s hard to overlap this passionate, gasping Otabek with the quiet and kind friend he knows, but it’s so worth it. He likes him even more with every kiss, with every little needy sound escaping from his lips.

Yuri’s eyes close slowly and the sudden shift in Otabek's position under him makes him frown. One thick arm is stretched to rummage inside his empty bag and when Yuri recognizes a square packaging and a small bottle.

Something unpleasant leaps on his chest and he freezes.

“Why do you have that stuff with you?”

Otabek blushes faintly, the pink barely visible on his dark cheeks.

“I said I could wait, but never that I haven't been thinking about this for quite a long time...”

The strange feeling in Yuri's chest is still there, but it's far from unpleasant now; it’s warm and for some reasons he can't breathe – Otabek wants him, he's been thinking about this as much as him and it's almost too much to bear.

He blinks quickly and hides his face in Otabek's neck, turning to graze his teeth on the flushed skin.

“Yura, I have to ask you again – are you sure? I mean, I...”

“I told you I'm sure and I want it and... oh, please, Beka, i want it so much...”

Otabek’s hands are cradling his face again, thumbs tracing his high cheekbones. One last kiss and their forehead are touching again.

“Turn around”, he whispers. 

_Lead and I’ll follow. Until the very end._

The movement is a bit awkward and Yuri has to brace himself to the armrest not to fall, his left foot still caught in his pants, but he wriggles and manages to sit back in Otabek's lap.

First it’s the sound of plastic being ripped, then a small pop – nothing he pays attention to, his eyes drawn to their reflection in the window. Yuri’s hair is a golden tangle around his head and his skin pale as marble on his chest and stomach, but his cock is a dark, flushed red in Otabek’s fist; he gasps at the sight and tosses his head back - that's more than he expected, but he’s far beyond the point of caring.

A slow, slippery caress trails down his ass and Yuri slumps forward, long hands hitting the window. A gentle touch finds his entrance and the pressure against the tight ring of muscles makes him sigh loudly. Otabek is still stroking him, is grip light enough to drive him crazy, to keep him on the edge, as his fingers slowly work their way inside him in lazy circles that have Yuri gasp in a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. When the first fingers enters he writhes a bit, more surprised than anything else, but then the rhythm of Otabek's pumping on his cock grows faster and he can't think at all. There's a stretching, burning sensation but it quickly fades away, erased by the arousal coiling heavy in the pit of his stomach. He claws at the cold glass and his whole body tenses. Something Otabek can't ignore.

“Try to relax, ok? And tell me the second it's too much”.

“Just... just keep going. I can take it”.

_I want to._

Otabek is covering his neck with kisses, brushing with his lips every inch of skin he can reach. His voice is another kind of caress in his ear.

“Look at you - you're so beautiful, Yura, I have been dreaming of... of this for so long...”

And it’s good. The shiver in his voice, his thumb pressing firmly under the crown of his cock and his finger sliding deeper and deeper inside him – the stretching is almost gone and as his muscles relax it starts to feel _too_ good. Another round of definite pressure, a second finger finding his way: Yuri looks at his reflection, eyes gleaming with tears and cheeks flushed, and then to Otabek – and he's simply incredible. His eyes are pools of darkness, completely black, completely caught by Yuri's gaze, and his dark hair is falling loose on his forehead; the hand stroking him is all tendons and veins bulging from the skin, up to the wrist and muscular forearm twitching with every movement.

Two fingers curls inside him and Yuri bites his lip to stifle a cry, pushing back against Otabek’s hand.

“There...”

And there he goes again, dragging him to his limit and slowing down to let him breathe, to bring him closer and closer and yet waiting.

As usual.

Yuri’s hands slide down the window and he tries to hold himself up, but his body feels like jelly, like something pliable in Otabek's hands.

Tension starts to build up again – too much, too fast with every ragged breath. Suddenly Otabek's fingers leave him – ready as he can be – but immediately something else is pressing against his entrance. The blunt head pushes slowly, painfully slowly, and Yuri desperately backs up to grind his hips back against the cock gauging him. 

It enters suddenly, a sharp blade of pain cutting through his nerves as a ring of fire lights around Otabek's cock. It hurts for real now, an all new kind of pain that makes him want to whine but not entirely out of suffering. He bites his lip so hard he tastes blood and almost thinks to break away, but then Otabek is kissing him again – on his neck, his cheek, on his lips as Yuri turns to him.

“I’m sorry”, he says in that low, sweet voice, and Yuri feels himself dissolve into his arms. 

“Don't be. Just... stay still for a moment”.

“Forever, if you need me to”.

One hand still gently wrapped around his cock, the other running up is stomach and his chest in soothing circles, Yuri grits his teeth as the burning attenuates with every heartbeat. It takes a while but his breath finally eases.

“Ok”, he mutters, and Otabek nips his earlobe. He's about to say something and Yuri knows it, so he stops him in a urgent whisper. “Yeah, I'm alright and yeah, I'm sure, ok?”

What vibrates behind him could be a laugh or a shiver, and Otabek rolls his hips just once.

It still hurts but not as bad as before, and as soon as Otabek is back stroking his cock it just doesn't matter anymore. Yuri welcomes the pain and the shuddering in his breath, low sobs catching in his throat with every deliberate thrust.

Otabek pulls him closer, one hand running up his chest and arm. It rests on Yuri's wrists for a moment and then their fingers are trapped together.

“It's... it's... Yura, you are amazing”. It's little more than a moan, so hot and tempting in his ear that Yuri starts moving too, slowly sliding back and forth as Otabek pumps faster.

His cock buried deep inside him reaches that sensitive spot, brushing it again and again and stripping him down to the perfect sensation of being full.

Yuri, still leaning forward on the window, clutches Orabek’s hand and holds it tight. 

The tension is back and it has nothing to do with anything he's felt before. It's fire and ice and light, so much light exploding behind his closed lids while is heart roars furious in his head, in his cock twitching in Otabek's slick grip.

Close. So close.

“Look at me”. A breath, a command hoarse with passion and need, and he can only obey. His eyes shot open and meet Otabek’s – glimmering, utterly adoring. Yuri’s chest feels heavy and too tight and his mouth falls open as everything inside him shatters.

He comes with a whimpering groan, spilling on Otabek’s hand, and every part of his body trembles so hard he almost slips from the armchair; it’s too much and he can’t stop panting with the last shocks of pleasure, and Otabek joins him shortly after with one, two last fierce thrusts – and he looks wonderful. His reflection is blurred by tears but Yuri can see him shut his eyes and clench his teeth, and the sound he makes – fuck, it’s perfect, just perfect, a muffled roar of pure, wild satisfaction.

Silence falls and time stands still for an infinite moment, their hearts racing and their hands still holding on the cold glass. Paris is still shining quietly around them but Yuri can’t see it anymore, enraptured by the smile Otabek cracks for him – sweet, almost shy, brighter than it has ever been. It’s weird feeling him pulling out, but he has no time to complain as Otabek takes him in his arms again, cupping his cheek and pressing his head to his chest.

Seemingly out of nowhere Otabek produces a tissue and Yuri feels a wave of embarrassment as he wipes himself clean; it’s so unexpected he even pulls his pants up.

He immediately shakes the sensation away.

_I’m an idiot. Why should I feel ashamed now? It’s Otabek. It’s us, and don’t regret anything._

He turns around and snuggles closer, enjoying the affectionate kiss Otabek lays on his temple and raising his head to kiss him back.

Everything is alright. _More_ than alright, actually, and he knows that whatever has changed is only for the better. Still, words form on his tongue before he can stop them.

“Now what?” he whispers, unable to make his voice sound anything but childish.

Otabek is still half naked and damn, Yuri wishes they could stay like this forever; he captures his lips for another kiss and his eyes are so deep he would gladly drown in them.

“Now?”  
“What does _this_ mean? What are we?”

“We are us, as we have always been. And always will, if you’ll have me”.

Yuri laughs, but only because it’s the only coping mechanism he can think of right now; before emotions choke him to death he wraps his arm around Otabek’s shoulders and hugs him tight.

”I think it can be arranged”, he whispers in his ear, and he thinks he can hear him laugh too in response.

Because it’s true: no matter how much of the world is between them, they’ll always know how to find each other.

And _this_ will never change.

 

 

 

[Credits](http://m.weibo.cn/u/1935261571?uid=1935261571&luicode=10000011&lfid=1076031935261571#&gid=1&pid=1)


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